image [https://i.imgur.com/yC4IDyu.png]

The darkness of night slowly turned to a dark navy blue. The sun was on its way. As its warm touch glazed over the city, it revealed the extent of the damage. Several building blocks withstood the explosion that had awoken everyone. King Cavalon was among those inspecting the rubble, and accompanied by his men, he began a coordinated effort to search the area piece by piece. The devastation spanned several hundred meters, marked by burned wood, shattered marble, and raining ash. As they worked, Cavalon noticed his officer was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t like him to be absent; it was uncharacteristic, one would say. He was the type of man whose duty was to the kingdom and who had never faltered.

As he eased through the debris, something caught his attention under the black ash of burned timber and melted metal. Light reflected off of a silver object. Picking it up, he saw it was an object he was very familiar with. The fire damage had worn the hilt of a silver blade, and terrible scarring marred the blade. Despite its damage, he unmistakably recognized it. But it made little sense. What was he doing here? It was far off from his regular patrol route, according to his scheduled time. And where was he now? What happened to his men? Questions swirled in Cavalon's mind, but he couldn’t find answers.

The soldiers looked amongst themselves, all equally puzzled. It was clear that some kind of fight had occurred. The various materials—brick, timber, and metal—showed signs of sword cuts. They searched every crevice, yet there was still no sign, no blood, not even body parts, only metal and steel.

A figure approached from the shadows—tall and imposing, dressed in rich robes that shimmered in the light. Inquisitor Orthrand had arrived. “Your Majesty,” he called out, his voice smooth and authoritative. “I trust you are assessing the situation carefully.”

Cavalon considered the situation. “I’ve received reports claiming a single boy was the sole cause of this destruction. It seems hard to believe, don’t you think? It’s very curious.”

Orthrand regarded the king, his expression inscrutable. “Indeed, it is unusual. One boy, alone, could hardly account for such widespread devastation. It raises questions about whether or not he was alone. I would like to question this boy. If there are secrets, I will uncover them.” Orthrand replied, his tone firm yet courteous. Cavalon agreed, a resolute expression on his face. “Very well. Proceed with your inquiry, but tread carefully; the emotions are still high among the citizens. We don’t want to incite further panic.”

Orthrand inclined his head in acknowledgment, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Of course, Your Majesty. I will proceed with discretion.”

Cavalon, with his men by his side, asked, “What is the condition of the boy now?”

One soldier replied. “He’s covered in ash, badly injured, with cut marks on his arm. He’s passed out and being held in the palace prison.”

“I’d like to see what he has to say for this,” Cavalon said, much to the soldiers’ dismay.

*

It was 6:00 AM, and the navy blue of the night sky had lightened into warm hues of orange and yellow. Clear skies stretched above as birds chirped cheerfully, heralding the dawn.

Eve was already awake, kneeling in her private garden just outside her room on the upper levels of the palace. The morning sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground. She wore a flowing white summer dress that billowed gently in the breeze, and her sunflower straw hat, adorned with delicate white ribbons, swayed slightly as she tended to the vibrant blooms.

Sleep had eluded her the previous night, leaving her restless and agitated. She had tossed and turned beneath her sheets, the relentless throb of a persistent headache echoing in her mind, like a drumbeat that refused to quiet. In her restless moments, she found solace among the flowers, where an array of colors thrived—roses, sunflowers, and dandelions among them. However, her favorite was the peony, a rare pink bloom that flourished only briefly.

At the heart of the garden, set upon a marble pedestal, stood a golden statue of a woman. An engraved plaque at its base read, “May the light shine the way.” Normally, Eve worked as the land’s general practitioner, caring for the sick and wounded in the hospitals. But in the early hours of the day, the garden provided her a rare moment of privacy, where she could speak freely to her flowers, ensuring no one was listening.

Eve gazed fondly at her lovingly curated garden, noting that she had carefully placed each flower. “When you are ready, you will blossom,” she said softly, her hands cradling a watering pot as she sprinkled a gentle balance of water among her blooms. In one of the rare moments of solitude, surrounded by the vibrant colors and sweet scents of the flowers she had lovingly tended, the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the petals. Taking a deep breath, she held her hands out in front of her, palms facing each other as if cradling an invisible orb. “Just a moment,” she whispered to herself, closing her eyes. She focused all her thoughts on the mere act of bringing something forth.

In her mind, she envisioned a dark, quiet room—a space where she felt safe. There she stood, surrounded by the vibrant colors of her garden, each flower a representation of her untapped power. She imagined a quiet burning flame flickering gently between her hands. She concentrated; the flame in her mind flickered easily, like a dim candle struggling against the wind. The harder she pushed, the more it eluded her grasp. Her body tensed, hands becoming rigid as she summoned every ounce of willpower.

Slowly, a slight flicker of golden light emerged between her palms, but it was barely enough to illuminate the shadows of her thoughts. A wave of frustration washed over her, the effort taking its toll. A mild headache pulsed at her temples, a familiar pain that reminded her of her past failures. The gentle rustle of leaves absorbed her disappointment. With a final push, she felt the golden flicker diminish, the light snuffed out like a candle extinguished too soon. Releasing her grip on herself, she sighed, the exhale heavy with frustration. This was a face rarely seen outside the palace—one of vulnerability and defeat.

She opened her eyes, staring at her hands, wishing for more than what she could achieve. “Maybe one day,” she whispered to the flowers around her, a flicker of hope buried within her despair. The light breeze caressed her skin, bringing a sense of calm. She stood tall, gazing up at the sky. “It looks to be clear skies this day,” she breathed in the cool, clean air before making her way from her garden into her personal chamber next door.

Her room was a spacious studio, roughly ten meters squared. In one corner, a table cluttered with scientific and medical equipment featured large lenses, surgical implements, and anatomy diagrams. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with enough tomes to create a personal library, each showing the unmistakable signs of frequent use—open books lay scattered across the table, colored bookmarks marking pages of significance.

On the opposite side of the room, an assortment of musical instruments lay scattered across another table, alongside various forms of art. Music sheets of her own compositions rested beside a grand piano, with a violin resting on its side. White paint covered the walls, adorned with paintings in golden frames; marble flooring, carpeted with soft fur near her queen-sized bed, lay next to a large grooming table with a full-length mirror.

Directly opposite the entrance to her garden was a balcony overlooking all of Elysian. The double doors, framed with rich red velvet curtains, swayed gently in the breeze. Amid the multitude of equipment scattered around her room, one common feature stood out: a myriad of candles and lamps, all lit despite the bright sunlight streaming in. The thick shadows that flickered around her made her shudder, and she made it a habit to relight any candle that dared to extinguish.

Just then, a knock interrupted her thoughts. The large metal door, framed in black, swung open to reveal her trusted servant, Lady Ilene.

“My lady,” Ilene greeted Eve as she approached.

“Ilene, what is it?” Eve turned, her hands still muddy from her morning’s work in the garden.

“They caught the young man who blew up the construction yard last night. He’s being held in the prison cells.”

“Oh? What did they get out of him?”

“He wasn’t talking, so I couldn’t get anything. They showed me his belongings, and there was nothing of interest except this.” Ilene handed Eve a gemstone—a sapphire gem suspended by a silver mithril chain.

“It looked out of place for someone like him to own. Maybe you could figure out what this is?” Ilene insisted.

Eve cradled the gemstone in her hands, examining it closely, but it remained unresponsive. To her, it looked like an ordinary gem. “Ilene, was there anything else? What are the other doctors saying?”

“Nothing, my lady. I walked past his cell and could hear the guards beating him. I don’t think anyone has bothered to even look at him.” Ilene's voice faltered, her head bowing in unease.

Eve felt her curiosity shift to frustration. “Wait, no one is bothering to look at him?”

“There is word that your father has sent the Inquisitor Orthrand down to see him now.” Her bewilderment made Ilene shift uncomfortably.

Eve reached for the Elysian Family crest from her stand, holding it in her hand. It felt heavy and solid, a weight that reminded her of the responsibility she bore. Maybe she could get some answers.

“Thank you, Ilene. That’ll be all.” She brushed her hair back, resolute.

“Yes, my lady.” Ilene bowed before exiting, closing the door softly behind her.

Eve turned her attention back to the gemstone, scrutinizing it for any hidden message. She peered through her scientific lab equipment, but no matter how deeply she examined it, she found nothing unusual. Then, she recalled the young man’s desperate words as they dragged him away: “Whatever I found there took everyone. It took my mother!”

That phrase had lingered in her mind, a grim echo of agony and pleas for help from a voice that had felt utterly unheard. After failing to uncover anything from the gemstone in her hand, she carefully cleaned it.

After cleaning her hands, she slipped into her proper attire. She packed her medical equipment, tinderboxes, and a lantern, taking great care to remain unnoticed as she made her way to the prison cells.

*

Navigating the palace's winding corridors, she descended a stairway leading underground. Natural light faded, replaced by flickering torches, with guards posted every few meters. The lower levels were damp and muddy, water dripping from the ceiling and running down the walls. This part of the palace was older, the once-polished golden facade giving way to the rough-hewn stone and brick that had held the structure together for centuries.

As the darkness thickened, she caught her breath, her heart racing as anxiety swelled within her. A chill crept up her spine, and she placed a hand on her chest, feeling the rapid beat beneath her fingers. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to steady her nerves before igniting the lantern. The soft glow flickered to life, illuminating the damp corridor and casting long shadows that danced along the walls. Her footsteps echoed ominously through the stillness of the prison halls, each sound amplifying her unease. Cobwebs draped every corner, like ghostly fingers reaching out from the darkness, while small ponds of water reflected the scant light that struggled to penetrate the gloom. The shadows felt alive, wrapping around her as if they wished to swallow her whole, but she pressed on.

Eve arrived at a cell, the only one occupied with her Elysian knights standing guard. She approached only to find herself face-to-face with the Inquisitor along with his personal guard. He stood with an imposing presence, his dark robes contrasting with the pale stone walls of the corridor.

“Eve,” he said, his tone cool and calculating. “I’m here to see the boy.”

Eve swallowed hard, gathering her composure.

“I am too. But I believe it would be best if I see him first.”

Orthrand raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “And why would I allow that?”

“Because I’m a doctor,” she replied firmly, stepping closer. “If you want to interrogate him effectively, he needs to be in a healthier state. If you allow me to assess him first, I can ensure he’s physically capable of answering your questions.” Orthrand studied her for a moment, as if weighing her suggestion against his own agenda. He tapped his staff on the ground. It shimmered with power, the metal clang echoing through the damp and dark halls, it bounced back and forth along the walls until it had returned. The staff went back to sleep. It detected no signs of dark powers nearby. Finally, he sighed, relenting. “Very well. You have ten minutes.”

Eve nodded, relief flooding through her.

“Thank you. I’ll be quick.” She gave a nod, signaling for her guards to open the door. The rusty bolts and hinges screeched as the door creaked open.

Sky awoke in a daze, blinking as the world around him blurred into indistinct shapes. What had felt clear in a dream suddenly made no sense. A little mouse that had scurried through the prison walls drew his attention, nibbling at his fingers. In a reflexive motion, he smashed his hand down on the floor, trying to crush the mouse, but his clumsy and slow movements allowed the creature to escape easily.

Fully awake now, he lay on a bed of hay in a prison cell. Brown brick formed the walls, and a barred window high above admitted the morning sunlight. He had slept through a hellish night, though he did not know how long he had been out. As he attempted to move, aches and bruises from the previous night beatings throbbed throughout his body. He grimaced as he looked at the wounds he had sustained from the shadows he had encountered. Someone had attempted to clean them up, but only enough to ensure the guards could beat him again.

Across the cell was a stool, presumably for the guard on duty, and a table piled with his belongings. Panic gripped him as he checked for his necklace; the gemstone was gone. He tried to get up, but winced at the pain that shot through him.

Murmurs from the guards outside the cell caught his attention, followed by a voice he hadn’t heard before. Before he had time to think, there was a rumble at the wooden door, which groaned against the stone floor as it opened. Fearing it was the guard returning, Sky rushed back to his hay bed, assuming a position that mimicked sleep.

Only a pair of footsteps entered—lighter than the heavy clanking of boots. They tapped gently on the ground, like heels. He didn’t want to look, so he remained as still as possible. The footsteps grew closer, and he braced for the sound of the stool moving, but silence enveloped him instead.

Was he possibly hearing things? At this point, he couldn’t discern between dream and reality.

Slowly, he turned to find a young woman standing there, carrying a small bag. She stared right at him, a soft smile lighting up her bright face. Behind her stood royal guards, weapons at the ready, should Sky attempt anything.

Sky froze, caught embarrassingly in a compromising position. “Um, hello?” he ventured.

The young woman spoke, “I’m Eve. How are you feeling?”

Sky looked around the dirty rank walls of the cell, the rat infested floor along with the hay, then back at her.

She was about the same age as him, her light brown curled hair combed to her right side, loosely flowing down past her shoulders. On her left side, she had fashioned a braid from the strands above her left ear, which then curled behind. She had fitted earrings composed of unique pieces made from gold and blue held together by golden chains. She fashioned deep blue robes made of soft silk covering from her lower neck, stopping before her knees covered and at last wore a long jacket of light gold. On her feet she wore white long high heel boots. She presented herself with great modesty. The way she moved was ethereal. Even in a dank place where she was, her very presence lit up the room. It was almost she didn’t belong in this world. A sweet scent of strawberries and peaches enveloped her, a truly unique aroma that was peaceful and disarming, the kind of fragrance that lingers long after she’d gone. Of course, it could’ve also been the sunlight reflecting off of her.

But of all of her features, it was her eyes that contrasted her fair skin. They glowed a deep sapphire blue, like the ocean glistening in the sunlight. One could easily lose themselves in the depths of her gaze.

“Is this a dream?” his voice laced with disbelief. Eve cracked a hint of a smile in response.

Eve began analyzing, observing every part of Sky’s body. “You have an injury in the back of your head. It’s causing your massive headaches. You have a large cut on your arm, and your leg is seriously injured. The splinters in your arms and legs will get infected if I don’t take them out.”

Sky leaned back against the bricked wall, every movement sending pain coursing through him. Despite the ache and his diminishing strength, he persisted and maneuvered himself into the shadows beneath the barred window, where the sunlight couldn’t reach him.

“I don’t know what you think I can give you,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “I’ve told the guards everything I had to say. But as everyone says, no one believes me.”

Eve turned to the guards behind her, signaling them to leave the room. After they exited, she placed her lantern on the table, its flame still bright despite the morning sun streaming in. Sky found it strange; it was day, yet she still needed another light.

Her attention shifted to Sky’s journal on the table. She picked it up and began flipping through the hundreds of faded pages, her expression softening with each drawing she encountered. “So you’re an artist. You draw very well.” She continued to flick through the pages until she reached the sketch of his mother, one of the few images that were not so faded. A gentle smile spread across her face.

“She’s very beautiful.”

It was these simple words that made Sky’s hardened exterior crack slightly. He stole a glance at her before looking away again, reluctant to admit how beautiful she truly was. It must’ve been the light in her eyes. Eve leaned over the table, her fingers gently flipping through the pages of Sky’s sketchbook. Each illustration spoke of his artistic talent—a vivid portrayal of the landscapes he had encountered and the emotions he felt. “You have a genuine gift for capturing beauty,” she complimented, her eyes lighting up with admiration as she paused on an intricate drawing of a blooming peony. She turned the page, a strange symbol caught her attention. Unlike the serene landscapes and realistic postures of the human frames he had that filled the sketchbook, this logo was stark and unfamiliar, etched with sharp lines and angular shapes that felt out of place among the other sketches, Completely out of style for him, as if an artist of a different kind had drawn in it.

“What is this?” Eve asked, her curiosity as she tracing the edges of the symbol with her fingertip.

Sky’s gaze shifted to the drawing, his expression growing serious. “That… it’s something I saw in the cave,” he replied, his voice quiet. “A magic symbol. I don’t know what it means, but it felt wrong somehow. I thought the least I could do was capture it.”

Eve studied him, sensing the weight of his words. “You found this deep in the cave?”

She approached as she brought along the rest of his belongings, sitting in front of him and through the shadows was close enough to see the bruise marks on Sky’s body and face.

“You don’t think I’m crazy?” Sky asked, a hint of mockery in his tone as he gestured toward the shadows.

“Believe me, I’ve dealt with plenty of crazy people. You barely make par.” Her unwavering demeanor only fueled his frustration.

“Do they talk about monsters, islands, and blowing up parts of a neighborhood?”

“No, they talk about ghosts, imaginary friends, and things that aren’t there. And I nod as I listen.” Her response almost made him chuckle under his breath.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Eve placed the journal back in the sling and pulled out the object of her interest, the Royal Elysian Family crest, still covered in dust. She brushed it off carefully, inspecting its fine detail.

“Now, this I know isn’t yours. No one has ever been foolish enough to steal from us with this.” She ran a finger along the intricate engravings, the precision of the design clear even under the layer of grime. “The Inquisitor believes it to be a fake… but I know it’s real. I’ve seen it before, many times.”

She glanced at Sky with a mixture of determination and curiosity. “This crest is not just any emblem. My mother—” Eve paused, as if gathering the right words, “—used to take great care in preserving every detail of our family’s history. She taught me how to recognize every line, every curve that makes our family’s insignia unique. The materials used to forge it are rare, and only those with true claim to the throne may possess it.”

Her voice softened, but her eyes stayed firm as she continued, "It’s not something that can be easily replicated, and certainly not by anyone without knowledge of its significance. So, where did you find this?"

“We found it on the beach. It was on a wreck of a ship.” Sky said, shaking his head.

“A beach? You mean you island you said you landed on?” Eve asked for clarification.

“Yes.”

The way Eve nodded made his heart sink, knowing she was just another person who thought he was crazy.

There was a pause. Eve changed course. “Tell me what happened?” Sky hesitated, thinking that this would happen the same way as it did before, looked away dismissively.

“Did you find anyone else?” Eve pressed.

“I won’t laugh.” She said, wanting to reassure him he was safe to disclose to her. Sky was still unresponsive yet she persisted.

“Why?” Sky asked, his eyes squinted, ever distrustful.

“Because I don’t think anyone as young as you who’d risk everything to come here would be so desperate to tell lies and try so hard to keep them even to risk being thrown in a cell. I’m not my father.” Her tone was firm, pushing back against his skepticism.

“You’ve asked me some things, my turn now…why did you lie?”

Sky looked up, unable to follow her line of questioning.

“When you were asked about what you found, you could’ve proved it to them you were indeed on that island. But you said nothing.”

Sky’s heart raced, drops of sweat forming on his brow. He turned away, dismissing what she said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are a terrible liar.” She smiled, her eyes piercing through him without compromise, yet there was a gentleness to her intentions, as if she truly wanted to understand and help.

“You said you had nothing else. But you didn’t want to give them this.” She reached into her robes, revealing the gemstone in her light, gentle hands. “It must’ve been very important to you.”

“The last thing you said before they threw you out was that whatever it was took your mother. Since you wouldn’t give this up, I’m guessing this was the last thing she ever gave you, a family heirloom perhaps, and you didn’t want to let it go.” Each word she spoke was careful, not wanting to remind him too much of his pain. She looked at him with her hands open, then reached over, returning the gemstone to him. “Don’t ever lose it.”

He looked down at his hands and then back at her, surprised by her kindness. For a moment, as he gazed into her eyes, he felt lost, the world around him becoming almost ethereal before snapping back to reality and remembering where he was.

“You feel all alone because no one believes you or understands.” Eve said.

“Everyone seems to be,” He replied as he lowered his own, cradling the gemstone in his hands. There was a moment of silence and out of came the words from Eve.

“I believe you.” She said.

Sky blinked like a double take, looking up at her. His eyes opened up, his breathing began pacing, yet he tried hard trying to keep it together. He felt like an immense weight had lifted from his shoulders, that living didn’t have to be so painful. Eve simply sat there, saying nothing. She could feel his barriers breaking down.

It was then the sight of the little mouse that had bothered him before had reemerged. Running its way through the hay, Sky lifted his hand, about to smash it under his hand. Eve immediately stopped him, catching his hand in hers. Eve moved towards the little rodent and, as if she was attempting to brush the wind away with her hands, she guided the mouse away. She whispered gently words that encouraged it to find its way home. Initially afraid, the mouse eventually moved away and crawled back into its hole. She waved at it, treating it as though it were a beloved pet. Sky looked on befuddled. It was the first time he had ever seen someone act like this. Where most people would run or fight in fear, she only wanted to help. It was the look in her eyes that said she would always favor gentleness over violence.

Eve then returned and took out the contents of her pack, a neat array of medical equipment and supplies, healing oils that smelled of burning alcohol and silver metal sharp implements. Everything one would need to remove foreign bodies; hooks, small mirrors, forceps, retractors, suture needles, the whole works. She took them out by hand, one at a time. Each carefully a measured distance like wood planks of a house, slow but precise. It was then Sky noticed she didn’t use magic, but she carried on with a deep passion. The joy in her eyes was those of someone who genuinely enjoyed what she did.

She extended her hand towards his arm; She inspected the second-rate stitch job and redid the job herself. Sky, for a moment, pulled his arm back.

“Do you trust me?” Eve asked.

Sky paused for a moment. He looked at her, examining her. It was the first time someone had shown him kindness like this. He was always drawn to her eyes, looking into them as though they had pierced him. He exhaled as he allowed Eve to treat his arm. With some healing oils and light cotton, she cleaned the surrounding area, disinfecting the wound. “What happened last night?” She whispered, almost befuddled by the number of fragments she needed to extract. Sky tensed up as the wound stung, felt like a hundred bees jabbing into him. His teeth clenched. The smell of alcohol was foul.

“Relax, I’m very good at this,” she said. Sky smelled his own blood. His fist clenched every time the needle went in. But he took the pain quietly. Amidst the stabbing pains, Sky let out a breath and lowered his head, finally able to relax. As she sewed up his arm, he explained.

“I was following someone—a woman with wings. They were like a ghost, leading me around the city. I found a cave with some kind of sphere, but something happened. I didn’t quite understand; it disappeared when I touched it. Your guards saw me and must’ve followed me. Next thing I knew, they turned into these shadowy things.” Sky gestured animatedly, trying to recollect the events of the previous night.

“Were you alone?”

“Yes, I mean no; I was with my friend, a dog—Smoky.” The mention of the dog sparked a reaction from Eve; her shoulders lifted, her eyes widened, and a hint of an enthusiastic smile broke through her serious demeanor.

Eve, not wanting Sky to be concerned, continued to distract him. “And what happened to your friend, Smoky?”

“We tried escaping. I got him out. He’s safe. He ran off into the forest beyond the city. The goodest boy,” Sky explained as her shoulders relaxed, knowing that his fluffy companion was okay.

She quickly snapped out of it, shaking her head and clearing her throat. The cut in his arm was now stitched up, and she inspected the injuries around his head and face, removing splinters wherever she could find them. When she placed bandages on his head mixed with healing oils, the cloth dampened with a red hue.

She moved on to inspect his hands, upon them saw the black marks that were cold to the touch. “What happened to your hands? Did you get into a fight?”

“Something like that,” Sky replied, glancing at his hands, realizing the darkness had spread more from his palms, encompassing all of his hands since the night before.

“Most likely from bruises. Just rest and let your body recover from it,” Eve said, though she had seen nothing like this before.

Sky adjusted his position, letting out a slight grunt as he tried moving his leg.

Eve reached over to inspect his leg, lifting the hem of his pants. She examined the bandages already on him and changed them. Dried blood deeply saturated the bandages, and all the movement and beatings Sky had endured reopened his wounds.

She placed her hand on his leg and began cutting away the bandages. The slight pressure caused Sky to draw in a breath, bracing himself for the impending pain.

“Sorry, this will only hurt for a little,” she assured him, looking into his eyes with a comforting gaze that promised the pain wouldn’t last. She stayed by his side as he took deep breaths, preparing for the discomfort.

Sky closed his eyes, enduring the oncoming pain as Eve worked on the wound. Taking out small splinters, cleaning the dried blood from his knee. “What happened to you?” She asked.

“I fell, hit some rocks and it hurts when I try to run now.”

Eve immediately picked up on this. Her eyes darted straight into his, knowing that there was more to it.

“You certainly didn’t do yourself any favors from mucking around last night. Even though what you say is so ludicrous, I believe you’re not crazy.” She turned her head towards him and nodded as she said.

Sky was completely perplexed and suspicious. He squinted his eyes at her. “Why?”

She was finishing up on cleaning his wounds about to apply a new bandage as she said. “As someone taught me, you can only get so much when you rely on first impressions. But that doesn’t mean first impressions aren’t important.”

“So what kind of first impression do I give?” Sky asked. Eve took a breath and paused before tapping his leg.

“That you’re in pain.” They both smiled.

The air in the cell was heavy as Eve carefully bandaged Sky’s leg, mindful not to apply too much pressure. She wrapped new, white bandages layer over layer. She smiled as she finally secured it with a closing pin. Much to Sky’s amazement as he realized, he did not cry out once.

“Done. No more running; let it rest,” she instructed, cleaning up her tools and medicinal supplies.

Sky’s gaze drifted to the family crest on the table before he turned to Eve, his voice a gentle whisper. “There were a set of footprints that led from the shipwreck.”

Eve’s eyes lifted, drawn in by his words. “We followed them, but we found no one.”

He had hoped to give her better news, but he spoke the truth. Eve gently nodded, accepting the weight of his words.

“Did you lose someone?” Sky asked, breaking the silence that filled the room. Eve drew from within herself, tapping into a well of long-held pain.

“Yes.”

Sky sighed, lowering his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Eve bit her lip, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill. The ache of having no sense of closure weighed heavily on her heart. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It was a long time ago.”

But as she paused, turning to face him, she managed a smile. Sky’s understanding words resonated within her, offering a flicker of solace amid the turmoil.

While Eve stood frozen in silence, lost in her thoughts, Sky’s gaze fell upon the family crest within reach. He grabbed it, and as he did, a hush of whispers echoed in his mind—starting softly but gradually growing louder. Flashes of images flooded his vision, showing the point of view of someone on the ship while it was still sailing. The flashes struck him painfully, and his heart pulsed heavily in his chest. His migraines had returned.

Suddenly overwhelmed, he dropped the crest, its heavy mass hitting the ground with an audible thud.

Eve turned to him immediately, her hands cupping the sides of his face. “What’s wrong?”

“My head. It really hurts. I don’t know what’s wrong.” He wrestled with himself, trying to maintain composure.

“Stay calm; just breathe.” She began rubbing the sides of his head in a circular motion with her thumbs, attempting to soothe him. Eve closed her eyes, entering a meditative state as though she were still in her garden. It was at this moment the gemstone illuminated the room with a golden bloom of light, its energy creating an audible shimmer.

Eve found herself unable to let go. When she opened her eyes, she realized she was deep within the recesses of her mind. A golden energy emerged from her figure, swirling around her, emanating from her body. Sky held his head, the struggle causing him to fall to his knees. Eve called out to him but found she could not reach him.

Black smoke seeped from where Sky kneeled, the dark vapor thickening into a strong mist that enveloped him completely. Eve felt her own energy flickering like a candle, struggling against the encroaching darkness.

From the shadows, a giant figure in black robes emerged, holding a khopesh in each hand. It drifted toward her, and she desperately tried to break free.

On the outside, Sky could hear Eve’s struggles, electricity flashing in the cell as the energy from the gemstone created an audible rumble. The Orthrand’s staff crackled with energy, immediately alerting him to the disturbance, drawing them to the only conclusion; that dark powers were indeed present here. His guards drew their weapons and commanded for the doors to open.

The light persisted, growing stronger as the gemstone reacted violently. Sky struggled against the pain in his head, his body glowing with dark energy until he suspended himself above the ground. Eve, still holding on to her power, felt his pain resonate within her, their minds and feelings intertwined for a fleeting moment.

She saw everything he saw: the island shrouded in fog, the hooded figure of darkness, and the last image of the orb Sky encountered shattering to pieces, ending with the wailing of a banshee’s scream.

Unable to let go of her power, Eve fought against the fear that gripped her. The light remained strong, but terror filled her face as she heard screaming and wailing within her mind. The dark figure charged toward her, poised to attack.

At that moment, the door was flung open. Orthrand stepped in, shocked by the chaos before him. The energy radiating from Sky created gusts of wind, his screams echoing painfully in the confined space. The gemstone lit up with a blinding intensity, illuminating the entire room.

“Stop!” he shouted, reaching out to Eve and placing his hands on the sides of her face.

With a commanding presence, Orthrand slammed his staff onto the ground, unleashing a massive surge of energy that blasted into the room. It took all the energy he could muster to confront the energy that burned before him. In an instant, the roaring energies were nullified. Sky dropped to the floor, unconscious, and Eve broke free, falling backward. Her face reflected shock and awe as she fought to catch her breath. The light from her hands vanished, and she felt drained.

Orthrand regained his composure. “Secure him,” he instructed, and his guards trained their weapons on Sky’s weakened body.

“Are you alright, my lady?” her Elysian knights asked, helping her to her feet.

Eve was speechless for a moment.

“I’m fine.” She collected herself, brushing her hair back to process what had just happened. She and Sky exchanged a weak glance, noting the gemstone’s dimming light.

“It seems I don’t need to interrogate this boy, after all. Thank you for your assistance,” Orthrand said, his expression unreadable. Still grappling with the events, Eve paced out of the cell with her guard following closely behind.

*

Once in her room, Eve rushed over to her grooming table. She reached for a large bowl of cold water and splashed it on her face, trying to catch her breath. The images from earlier haunted her thoughts. Looking up at her reflection in the mirror, she watched the water wash away her makeup.

As she tried to shake the cobwebs from her mind, her father, King Cavalon, who stood at the door and knocked twice, interrupted the moment of silence. “Eve?”

“Father, yes, come in,” she called out as she washed her hands.

Cavalon stormed in, rushing over to her side. “Eve, I heard what happened. Are you alright?”

“Yes, Father. It’s all true—what he said. The family crest, it’s real.” She struggled to piece her words together, her hands moving frantically as she tried to convey some sense of urgency.

“Slow down. How do you know this?” Cavalon gently guided her to sit on the bed, his hands resting on her shoulders to help her relax.

“I—I saw into his mind, somehow. I don’t know how, but I saw his memories. What he went through on the boat. It was all real.”

At that moment, Orthrand gently pushed the door aside and casually strolled in. “You certainly keep very interesting company, my lady.”

“Inquisitor Orthrand? What have you found?” Cavalon rose to stand, his tone shifting as he faced the newcomer.

“That boy is certainly of great interest,” Orthrand replied, glancing out the window toward the vast sea. He held the gemstone suspended by its chains in his hand. “He was in possession of this. It seems to have the ability to conceal the energy traces of those wearing it. A foreign alien in possession of an arcane artifact is a heretical act.”

“What do you intend to do?” Cavalon asked, concern etched across his face.

“I intend to find out how he came into possession of it,” Orthrand declared, his demeanor shifting to one of authority. “Therefore, by the authority invested in me on behalf of the Inquisition, I hereby take this boy into my custody, where he will be subject to a more…principled group of interrogators. Rest assured, your Majesty, I shall get to the bottom of this. The Empire owes you a great debt.”

“Where will you take him? To the Empire?” Eve asked, her voice laced with concern. A knot twisted in her stomach at the thought of Sky being taken away.

“No, I shall take him to the realm of the Inquisition itself,” Orthrand replied, his tone cold and unyielding. “That is where I plan to question him.”

Eve felt her heart sink, dread pooling in her chest. “But what will they do to him?” she pressed, her voice trembling slightly. The thought of Sky enduring harsh interrogation techniques filled her with unease. Suddenly, she jolted to her feet.

“Then I shall accompany you.”

“My lady, I assure you that will not be necessary.”

“He has suffered severe injuries and is still in the process of healing. If you’re going to take him far away from here, it would be best if I were there to ensure his health and well-being. After all, he’s no good to interrogate if he’s dead… I believe he will be more receptive to questioning if I’m present.” Eve stood firm, her eyes sharp and unwavering.

Cavalon glanced at her, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He turned to the Inquisitor, who appeared surprised by her proposition. “Of course, my lady. You may accompany us,” Orthrand chuckled, his demeanor shifting slightly.

“Afterward, you will return him to me?” Eve asked, her voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling within her.

“Afterward, I shall return him to you,” Orthrand replied, bowing slightly in acknowledgment. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must make preparations.”

He exited, ensuring the door clicked shut behind him. They waited for his footsteps to fade before Cavalon turned to his daughter.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, Father. I dread what the Inquisition will do to him. The thought of Orthrand in a room alone with him fills me with dread. He’s our only lead on what happened to Mother, and I must know.”

Cavalon nodded, his expression serious. At that moment, Ilene entered the room. “Is all well, my lady?”

Cavalon immediately sprang into action. “Ilene, can you assist Eve in preparing supplies? You will accompany my daughter as she goes with the Inquisition.”

“Sire?” Ilene looked surprised.

“Father?” Eve echoed, a mix of concern and gratitude in her voice.

“I would be foolish to let you do this alone. Besides, Ilene has cared for you and watched over you your entire life. I must remain here to protect our kingdom.” Cavalon’s tone shifted, carrying the weight of unspoken pain, as if he were opening an old wound. He took Eve's hands in his, holding them tightly.

“This is a wound I have kept closed for fifteen years,” he confessed, his voice trembling with raw vulnerability. “I hope you can uncover the truth. You have the chance to bring closure for both of us.”

He searched her eyes, a mix of pride and sorrow reflected in his gaze. “Promise me you’ll be careful. I can’t bear the thought of losing you, too.”

Eve nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she embraced him tightly. “Yes, Daddy.”

Cavalon gently released her from the embrace and turned to Ilene, determination setting in. “Ilene, we need to prepare.”

“Of course, my lord. There are extra medical supplies downstairs. I’ll go fetch them now.” Ilene nodded and quickly left the room with Cavalon, closing the door behind them.

Once alone in her room, Eve distracted herself by heading out to check on her garden. A sweet fragrance filled the air as she walked past her nicely trimmed flowers. If the seasons were kind, the peonies would bloom by the end of the year. Yet, the more she tried to avoid thinking about her earlier encounter, the more it occupied her mind. She closed her eyes, held her hands out, and attempted to summon her power once again. She followed her usual thought process, everything calculated and precise. A light glowed from her hands, but it flickered and faltered. Stress mounted, causing her hands to shake. It felt as if she were losing control. Thoughts of her time in the cell with Sky flooded her mind. She recalled his frail body and the gray, almost soulless look in his eyes, as well as the black-robed entity that had frozen her in place.

Suddenly, the light within her mind expanded like it never had before. The darkness that had clouded her thoughts lifted. It felt as though a door inside her had swung open, allowing her to tap into her power. The burden and stress of all her previous attempts melted away. Though her breathing quickened from excitement—something she had never experienced before—she remained focused, and the light in her hands grew stronger. As she looked around, she noticed the flowers she had nurtured blooming. The once green garden transformed into a vibrant sea of pink, shining with life. Her eyes widened in astonishment, and she gasped as she released her hands, nearly stumbling from the sheer thrill of what she had accomplished. She had reached deep within the living essence of her surroundings and helped them sprout. For anyone else, it might have seemed like child's play, but for her, it felt like the achievement of a lifetime.

Placing a hand on her heart, she pinched her cheek to confirm this was real and not just a dream. Her gasping turned into a serene smile; she was eager to share this moment with Ilene or her father. But before she could, a sudden gust of wind abruptly halted her excitement. She held her hair back as it whipped around her and looked up to see dark clouds gathering in the distance. Lightning flickered ominously within them.

“It looks like a storm is coming,” she whispered, a feeling of dread settling in her stomach.